


versace promises

by tertulia



Series: the love club [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Cuddles, Denial of Feelings, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Gay, Gentle Kissing, Humor, I forgot how to tag, Inspired by Poetry, Inspired by Real Events, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Mamma Mia! References, Mutual Pining, Pet Names, Realization, Romance, Rumors, Slow Burn, Thanks, Uhm, aesthetic-ish, but not really tho?, donghyuck is a fashion designer, i need to have my feelings validated, i think so, jaemin is a model, like. so much flirting, listen. just please read it, so many of them bc nahyuck. duh, this is very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-04 23:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17907875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tertulia/pseuds/tertulia
Summary: it's 5 a.m and donghyuck has a boy made of sun in his sheets, burning like hell itself, but it's good. it's fire, and it consumes him, but it's all good.or, the four steps to loving you.





	versace promises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ceezo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceezo/gifts).



> this is a part of a series about love and its many sides. yes, i've been crushing on someone. no, i'm not happy about it. i hope you enjoy <3

**i.**  
_when you think you like him_.

  
Jaemin is not weak. Maybe he's a bit of a cry baby sometimes, and maybe he whines way too much to Jeno's ears’ liking, but he's not weak. There's not a strand of hair, a drop of blood, a patch of skin in his body that would crumble under the kind gaze Donghyuck sports in his eyes right now.

So he's not quite sure why he's crumbling. He just knows he is, because there's a press of reality in his stomach he never felt before. When Donghyuck looks at him with that cheerful smile of his, his eyes inviting and almost a portal of their own, it's hard to believe there is anything else in the world but the soft crept of fire engulfing everything that isn't the two of them. When he leans in to comment something under his breath, probably a joke or a mean observation, Jaemin finds it hard to not let his heart fall in disgrace.

He thinks he's falling. He does. Everyone seems to think so, these days. And they all have a say about it, as Jaemin could point it out; Jisung has no problem with Donghyuck, except for the fact that he's way smarter than all of them combined. Which wasn't really hard to him - everyone somehow seemed to be less smart than Donghyuck. Jeno liked him too, but in that distant way of liking someone, in which he's cool until Jaemin starts to catch feelings. He's already being teased about Donghyuck by Chenle, and the others just haven't catched up yet. Or maybe they had, but the depth of Jaemin's feelings is still misleading enough for them to ignore it.

It's embarrassingly difficult to answer Donghyuck when he's whispering in Jaemin's ear about a new collection he's been working on. The lights are blinding from the runway, sounds of clicks coming from the mass of cameras in the room, and it's a different world than the one Jaemin lives in. He's used to the runways, and he's been on them before, but being a spectator is far different. Being a spectator next to the stylist, one who is pretty and witty like Donghyuck, is also new. Although Jaemin has been in that atmosphere before, it's hard when Donghyuck gets close like that.

And that means whatever it means. He's tired, his eyes don't open the way they should, and Donghyuck's shoulders are broad enough. Jaemin does the only thing anyone in his situation would do: he cuddles closer. Cameras click even faster, like a pack of wolves running towards a prey; it means bad news, of course, but Donghyuck says nothing. Instead, he wraps an arm around Jaemin's waist, steadying him in his chair so his back won't hurt after the show.

When he thinks no one else is looking, he quickly moves his lips to Jaemin's ear. “I think we just gave them all a reason to get promoted tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Jaemin shrugs. “All publicity is good publicity. Let them be.”

The stylist laughs close to Jaemin's face, his voice sounding almost croaky. When the model looks up at him, Donghyuck's black hat makes him look like a witch. His eyes are lit up by the lights, reflecting shades of purple in the runway, and the gentle slope of his nose seems all sorts of magic, although Jaemin has no idea why. The top of his head seems to be sporting a dark halo, a buzz of magic just above honey colored locks. It's absurd, like always, and his eyeliner is a fluorescent blue, neon lights coming from his eyes.

Maybe Donghyuck is a witch. That would explain so much about the way everything he does is nothing short of celestial.

“Oh, doll,” he hums. “Will you ever grow tired of being a dangerous rumor to my career?”

Jaemin chuckles. He stares at the runway, at the models walking, at every stretch of fabric in their bodies, and he sees why Donghyuck takes him downtown, sees why he's shown off that much. It's hard to look that good under the lights and not become arm candy to the rich. Still, Jaemin believes he's got the best of them all. “No,” he answers, quietly grabbing Donghyuck's hand and pressing a quick kiss to his fingers.

He could physically feel Donghyuck's smile, even if he couldn't see it.

“Good,” the stylist murmurs. “You should haunt me more often.”

At that, Jaemin giggles softly. “I will. News will talk about us for months. You'll be sick of my face soon.”

“It's always an honor to be in Na Jaemin's exes list, though,” Donghyuck teases. “From what I've heard, there's not many of us around, huh?”

The model rolls his eyes, sinking deeper into Donghyuck's shoulder. He stares at the stylist's hand, gently resting on his thigh, fingers dangling at the gap between his legs. It's filled with rings, Donghyuck's left hand, all covered in diamonds and dipped in gold, shimmering from the inside of Jaemin's thigh, where they belong. His nails are painted a weak shade of peach, and they look quite manly, although everything about him does. In that soft, alluring way of his, of course, but Donghyuck manages to be a type of handsome no one has ever been before. His movements are smooth, dramatic, a complete opera of his own, but he still smells like heavy scented cologne and holds Jaemin's waist firmly when they're taking pictures for press.

Donghyuck is smart, kind, lovely, soft when he wants to, and an abyss with a harsh, quick pulse. And isn't that just _miserable_? Isn't life unfair? How could someone even _be_ like that?

“I guess I'm kind of picky,” Jaemin mumbles. He's not sure if it's true - he's had a few crushes, of course, but they were mostly out of boredom. All in all, there's not really a lot of people whom he's been in love with, and there's even less to whom he wishes well to this day.

The stylist buries his nose in Jaemin's pink hair, nuzzling with a quick laugh. Donghyuck is more affectionate than anyone Jaemin knows. “I'm afraid so, doll,” he humors under his breath. “But does that mean I'm meeting all your standards?”

Their flirting is gross and the conscient pining by both parts is filled with heavy tension, so tangible Jaemin could almost grasp it and throw it away. He's the one who started it, after all; Donghyuck was too pretty and too shy to not be flirted with. That was before, though. Now, he's relentlessly chasing after Jaemin, all smart mouth and batting eyelashes, which is both entertaining and troublesome.

Jaemin sighs. “You are,” he squeezes Donghyuck's hand. “I think you are.”

“Great,” the stylist says, giving back a squeeze to Jaemin's thigh. “We should go out to the movies after this. We could rent the whole session and dance to Grease while we're at it, or… I don't know. Some musical.”

The model stares at him again, runway long forgotten. It's a switch flipped, as if the room just got ten times brighter, and _oh. I like you so much._

Jaemin thinks he could fall for Donghyuck. He really does. The thought just flashes his mind, flies through him, quietly runs up his back. _I like you so much. So much._ He repeats, tasting it in his tongue even if he doesn't say it out loud. It's not foreign to his mouth, and it tastes like deliberation, like finding a song exactly your taste, like fitting inside a sunbeam. Jaemin doesn't want perfect, because it would be a lazy and lousy way of describing it.

“Please,” he pleads, whines even. The runway is so boring and spending time alone with Donghyuck is the best.

The stylist rests his head over Jaemin's, and he says nothing more. The models come and go, cameras click, people whisper around them, lights flash, and Jaemin is home. The chaos of it all is born from Donghyuck's talented little hands, so how can he not love this collection, when he has loved all of the others before? It's not even a fashion matter anymore. Jaemin is admittedly biased.

“You and me would be a hell of a conversation, wouldn't it?” the model later asks, in the back of their cab, the city enrolling from behind Donghyuck, window open and dripping stars.

None of them knows how to drive, so they're splitting an Uber. It's unbelievable how well priced they can get and still be utterly clueless to things so simple.

“It would,” he answers, still staring out of the window. He doesn't look at Jaemin when he says it, but he does take his hand on his own, caressing the model's knuckles. “But I wouldn't drop your name if you didn't want me to.”

Jaemin blows through his nose, snorting. “I don't think it matters now. After all the cuddling we won't have to tell them anything.”

The corners of Donghyuck's mouth go up like two little lakes of their own, the gentle twirl of a smile beginning to show in his face. His earring dangles from his ear, sparkly in ways people couldn't be, and Jaemin is a little out of breath. Deep inside, he knows his heart has too many things to say about Donghyuck, but he wills them down - it's not the time. It's not the moment to fall so deeply, even if it feels like the right hour. Time with Donghyuck; what a weird concept. It never flows any quicker or slower, just uniquely. Although Jaemin knows that time is passing and the clock is ticking and the song on the radio is playing, there is the sweet commodity of knowing they're where they're supposed to be. It's not the moment for falling, he says to himself, but it's not like the universe needs any permission.

“I guess we should've thought about it beforehand,” Donghyuck laments, but there's not a vestige of guilt in his smile, eyebrows raised up. What a relentless flirt, Jaemin giggles to himself. “Yikes.”

“Yikes!” Jaemin's laugh blooms to an open hearted guffaw, hysterical screeches making their way out of his adoring lips. “You're insufferable, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck. Not Haechan. Jaemin is one of the few people who use the stylist's real name, and it makes him feel giddy, their closeness a tickle of excitement on his belly. Like riding down a rollercoaster.

After he calms down, Jaemin all but throws himself onto Donghyuck, arms snaking around his neck as if they belonged there. “Jeno's going to beat my ass.”

“Why?” the stylist chuckles lowly.

“Because I haven't told him anything,” he nuzzles Donghyuck's neck, cologne now faintly embracing his tanned skin. Pretty.

“What is there to tell, anyway?” he's answered longingly, the boy's hands gently resting over Jaemin's legs. “I refuse to be rumored with a boy I haven't even kissed yet. I have manners, Jaemin.”

The model flinches. “Call me Nana.”

Donghyuck blinks, a tad bit confused for a moment, and as he stares at Jaemin for a second more than necessary, the nickname feels warm on his tongue. It's childlike, sweet, brings back the scent of strawberry to his nostrils.

“Nana?” he asks, lips forming around it carefully. That's more like it. “Oh. Na Jaemin. Nana. How cute.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin nods. “Nana or ‘doll’, please. ‘Jaemin’ feels like you're angry with me.”

“I like ‘doll’ too,” Donghyuck hums. “It fits you well.”

The model smiles. “Thank you,” he sing-songs. “Is it because I'm pretty?”

“The prettiest,” the boy shrugs. “But that's not quite it. You just look delicate," at that, he steals a glance at the driver. When he sees he's not looking, Donghyuck places a kind hand on Jaemin's cheek. 

“Oh, is that so?” Jaemin shakes his head, smiling. “I'm a Barbie doll to you, ain't I?”

Donghyuck drags his nose through Jaemin's cheek, lips planted against soft skin. Mindlessly, he says: “You love it.”

“Mhhm,” the model smiles against Donghyuck's lips. “I should give you a nickname.”

The stylist opens his lips to answer, but as he looks around, their ride is getting to an end. The bright lights of the old movie theater shine in his vision, and without much thinking he grabs Jaemin's hand, getting out of the car. When he's sure the driver is away, and they're alone, he wraps an arm around the model's waist, guiding him to the entrance.

“Refer to me as God,” he teases, pinching Jaemin's side. “Or Your Majesty.”

“Oh, that's kinky,” Jaemin bats Donghyuck's hand away, slapping it lightly.

“Did you just say ‘God’ is kinky?” his… lover says. _Lover_. It's weird. “That’s blaspheme. That's so problematic!” Donghyuck all but yells in that high pitched tone of his, and he's totally aiming it to make Jaemin annoyed, but it doesn't quite work. It's hard being annoyed at him.

“You called yourself God. You're the problematic one. I'm a baby,” Jaemin smiles as innocently as he can, grabbing Donghyuck's hand as they walk through the packed crowd waiting in line for some movie.

“You're twenty, Nana. Shut the fuck up,” it's what the guy he likes says. No sweet flirting back, no pulling him in for a babying session. Oh, how Jaemin's in love.

Wait. No. Not in love. Not now. Absolutely not. He shoos off the romantic ways of his heart - now is not the time.

But he thinks he is. Just a bit. He thinks he likes Donghyuck. He thinks so, yeah. And there's a whole path ahead of them, because liking is just liking, and he's not one to half-ass things, even more so when it comes to feelings - he wants to be in love. He wants to get married, meet the parents, hell, he'd build a family at twenty if it feels right. Donghyuck could, shouldn't, won't be the one who gives him that.

He's not that person, Jaemin knows. He won't settle down any soon because that's just not who he is, and that's surprisingly fine. It should be enough to cut his feelings out, to pale his red, red heart; but it just… Doesn't. Their interests are far from the same, and still, Jaemin falls and falls, the type of falling that feels like being picked up.

He laughs, a bit lightheaded, and lets Donghyuck guide the way. Oh, _what a shame_. Sincerity would be such a blessing, he thinks - if the model could just stop Donghyuck right in his tracks and ask if he's serious about it like Jaemin is. If only then he could find a loophole, an universe where both of their wants and needs could coexist, if the world could be so kind as to let them be together. It's almost ironic how Jaemin wishes they could be together, when all of his exes have been failed attempts to want someone as much as they want him.

Donghyuck blabbers on about how Meryl Streep is a great actress and how much he likes ABBA, and Jaemin agrees to it even though he never really cared about movies before. He just likes this one in particular, and it's a completely biased opinion of his, which also adds to his eternal love of musicals. That, and, of course, the company. It felt more enjoyable because Donghyuck was there.

_A shame. Liking a boy who doesn't really want you is a shame._

Except this isn't a shame.

 

**ii.**  
_when you think you're falling._

 

Jaemin is dense. Oblivious. Profoundly so, even if his intentions are good. He's not even that much at fault, really - Donghyuck is too otherworldly to understand, and Jaemin's romantic side is pretty much filled with fantasies only. For someone who daydreams about love so much, he's surprisingly bad at recognizing it when it sits right in front of his eyes and calls him ‘doll’ every other day.

Anyway.

They're in a dark movie theater room when it happens. The movie plays on the screen for the two of them only, and Donghyuck is running down the columns of seats for the hell of it, calling out Jaemin's name every now and then and shooting him finger hearts. It's very silly, and therefore lovely. The darkness finds them in every piece of their bodies, all but swallowing Donghyuck's frame in one bite, making him harder and harder to watch as his figure gets smaller each step taken. Jaemin is sitting in the last row, cross legged with a popcorn bowl between his jeans covered knees, and although he's not weak, he definitely is a scaredy cat. The biggest out there, if you will.

Donghyuck is, too. Jaemin has no idea of why he's wandering around in the dark with only Amanda Seyfried's face serving of light, and for some reason it makes him even more scared. He's alone, in the back of a pitch black movie session, all of his 58 kg of pure bones and very few muscles. If something came to him, he'd have no chance. And Donghyuck couldn't protect him either, no, not with his noodle arms.

Oh, how Jaemin misses his best friend sometimes. Jeno could kick any ghost's ass for him.

“Hyuck?” he calls, a bit panicked. He waits for a few seconds before speaking again: “Hyuck, please. I'm scared of these things. Don't be like that, please?”

Nothing. Not even the soft padding of his feet on the ground. Jaemin lets out a shaky sigh. Oh, no. No. He just met the one boy he really feels like he could fall for and now he's missing in a dark room. May God have him.

“Hyuckie…” he tries again, in a softer tone. It's no use - Donghyuck still doesn't answer. Jaemin frowns. “This is mean. I'm here watching a movie you love with you and you're not even going to talk to me?”

Again, only silence gets to his ears. Now, the model knows that the one thing who could take fear in a confront is nonchalant distraction, so he hesitantly turns back to the movie. It doesn't work that well, as he still has a scratch of fear in the back of his stomach, but it's enough for him to be absolutely terrified when someone plops on his lap, a hand resting on his chest.

“What the fuck?! What the-” Jaemin yelps, pushing Donghyuck off of him. “What the _fuck,_ Donghyuck?’

The stylist giggles sheepishly, holding onto Jaemin as to not fall. After calming down his rather sped up heartbeat and having taken his popcorn from Donghyuck's other hand, the model carefully holds him back, breath slightly heavier than before. It's hard to keep the shock at bay, and Jaemin hates being spooked, even more so in situations like this, when he was genuinely worried about the silly little thing on his lap right now.

“I'm sorry!” the boy laughs, burying his head in Jaemin's chest. “I wanted to surprise you.”

He scoffs, resting his chin over the top of the stylist's head. It's a bit of a self comfort - after all, Donghyuck isn't being devoured by an evil creature right now, so Jaemin supposes he could breathe in peace. How disappointing would it be for the fashion industry, if Donghyuck disappeared. How hurtful would it be for Jaemin's already attached heart.

“What a shitty surprise,” he grits out, squeezing Donghyuck tightly in his arms. “Bastard.”

“You were scareeeeeeed,” Donghyuck sings in his ear, annoyingly so. “How cute, how cute.”

Jaemin huffs, his nose touching the other boy's. “Of of course. I told you I'm a scaredy cat, Donghyuck.”

His eyes, though, were still nothing short of trouble. Donghyuck's gaze is centered on Jaemin's larger than life lashes, his own being batted, flirty. They're kind of too close now, the sort of close you wouldn't understand until you feel it with someone. The space between them is barely a fingertip long - it's like they could merge at any given moment. _And wouldn't that be nice_ , he thinks.

Jaemin feels like crying, but then the tears would stream down Donghyuck's face as well, given their closeness.

“What are you doing to me?” he's asked by gloss coated lips.

“Nothing you didn't put yourself into,” Jaemin's lips touch a bit of his. Just the tiniest bit. They brush, teasingly, and it happens ever so naturally. _What a shame. A boy that doesn't really want you._

But Donghyuck looks like he does when he's like that. He looks like he really wants Jaemin, somehow.

“The rumors are cruel,” Donghyuck starts, now straddling Jaemin's legs. The model hums, urging him go on. “But most of them are true, aren't they?” he whispers.

“I guess you could say we're…” Jaemin giggles softly. “A gossip come true?”

The stylist laughs, burying it in Jaemin's heavenly smile. “Ah, this is the prettiest,” softly, he traces his bottom lip, delicate fingertips playing his skin like a piano. Oh, Donghyuck's pianist fingers, if only you knew how badly Jaemin dreams of you. “This is what songs are all about,”

“Then you should play me time and time again,” the model hums, referencing to the movie. “And make me strong.”

Donghyuck chuckles. He's had enough of Jaemin's smart puns, so he does what he feels like he needs to do.

He kisses a boy. Except the boy is not quite a boy, but maybe a song. One with heavy guitar solos, a piano and an eighties feel, being leaded by some pretty voice out there. Donghyuck has kissed boys before, yeah, but none of them made him hit notes as well as Jaemin's lips did.

And isn't that just a shame? Wanting a boy more than anything else? Isn't that what all songs are about these days?

Jaemin huffs. Then kisses him back. For the dramatic effect of it, of course.

“Don't go all cocky about it,” Donghyuck whispers to his mouth. “But I think I'll be thinking of you all night long,” it makes Jaemin smile, so the stylist smiles too. “And that sucks a little bit because you won't be there.”

“You can always hit my phone,” he answers, truthfully. “You angel, you. I love your company. I can always be around if you want me to,”

Donghyuck shakes his head. “You're such a sap. How can you be so…”

“Smooth?” Jaemin smiles. “It's how just my heart feels.”

“You're absurd,” the stylist slaps him lightly. Still on his lap, though. “Everything you say is pink and heart shaped.”

“My favorite color,” the model answers. And really, it's all overly sweet and pretty, pretty, pretty. It's like living inside the moon.

How proud must the moon be. Jaemin just kissed a boy he's been telling her about all month.

Even if Donghyuck is the sun. Even then.

“Come to my house,” he says, like Jaemin would put up a fight. “Let's be grandpas and cuddle while my friends go clubbing,”

Jaemin nuzzles his nose on Donghyuck’s cheek, and gently takes him out of his lap. Then, his previously forgotten popcorn is back on his hands. “I payed for a movie, Donghyuck. I'm watching it.”

The stylist laughs, albeit a bit ironically. Still, he accommodates his limbs back on his seat, and immerses himself in the movie again. Maybe Jaemin is a bit afraid of getting closer, and that includes rejecting offers like these. It's okay, though; he knows he'll get too close anyway.

Their hands are intertwined. Is there really anything else to say?

  
**iii.**  
_when you think you know._

  
Jaemin has always been unattainable, and maybe that's why love is a dry, dry desert in his heart. Maybe, after all, some people just aren't made for romance - and that's okay. He's never alone, and he doesn't really care for relationships in their romantic sense, because his other relationships, whether platonic or familiar, are already so rich. He lacks the time for anything else.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, is not exactly romantic. Jaemin doesn't think of him like a very close friend whom he gets to kiss and hold hands, but it's not like other romantic interactions he's had, because it's fair easier. Something like a best friend, maybe - he’s not sure yet.

But that's why he thinks he's falling. He never came to feel like that, as if things were just growing in their own time, naturally and slowly reaching Jaemin's head. He's not sunk into love, no - rather, it feels like being its roots. Jaemin is a mere canvas, and love is what comes from him, a solo process at its best. His love is self sufficient, but it tastes much better when it is in Donghyuck's hands.

He's laying down on the couch, legs up in the air because they’re too long to fit in, phone in his face and the soft thump of SZA in the background. It's his element, truly. A night like this is gentle, calming, makes him reminded of who he is and who he isn't. Maybe he can go to Jeno's dorm sometime soon, because it's been a while since they met. Or he could go out in the city with Jisung, eat with their friends, have a few drinks and laughs. Or none of these, if so he pleases; he could stay at home too. Just Jaemin and the dog. He'll make it a boys’ night.

He's texting Donghyuck, as pretty much always, and they're bickering over something he doesn't really care about. It's entertaining for a second, but then it dies down, and soon enough he's trying to set up a movie in his TV. His phone buzzes from the couch, but Jaemin is on a mission, so he ignores it for the sake of technological knowledge. When he's back, there's a few new messages from a widely known angel of his.

 **hyuck** :  
come overrrrrrrrrr  
miss u

 

 **nana** :  
not in the mood, hyuckie.  
sorry :(  
i'm probably meeting friends tonight tho  
you could come together, i'll introduce you to them

  
He waits a few minutes, then goes back to the movie. Some time later, his phone buzzes again.

 

 **hyuck** :

dunno  
im kinda shy abt things like that  
and theyre ur friends  
i need to make a good impression

Jaemin smiles.

 **nana:**  
no need  
will like u anyway  
even if they dont like u

 **hyuck** :  
ha  
cute  
ill think abt it  
and let u know  
ok???

 **nana** :  
kay  
babe  
;)

 

And Jaemin hits it off solo after it, as smoothly as it could possibly be. He watches a movie or two, drinks a few sips of wine, cries in his bathtub to country Taylor Swift songs. Just a regular night, he'd love to say, but that's not how it works around here, no - he's emotional. There's no reason to be, nothing really happened, but still; it's that kind of day when things just clasp aggressively in each other, when he wants to be apart and together at the same time.

It's rather upsetting, really. He even told Donghyuck off because things were fine and he'd definitely not spiral into sadness, no matter how emotionally challenging the ‘You Belong With Me’ video clip is. But that was hours ago, and he's alone, and he misses being loved. It's no surprise he's needy at two A.M. with half the heart to call an uber and wake Jeno up from his peaceful slumber, because it happened before, the dawn always being the peak to his breakdowns. But Jeno has work tomorrow, and his other friends do too, so Jaemin does what he does: he grabs his wallet, fills a colorful bottle with rum, and goes shopping.

It does not end well. About fifteen minutes into it, he's calling Donghyuck. Give it half an hour and Jaemin is laying on the stylist's bed, a bit defeated as Donghyuck makes him tea. Jaemin doesn't even like tea but he lacks the heart to tell the boy about it. He's a sucker for Donghyuck, it upsets him, and he cries. That's all.

His love finds him weeping on his pillow, eyes closed, tears glistening on his cheeks.

“Doll?” Donghyuck's voice comes from the doorway, all dainty and pretty. That fucker.

Jaemin whines. “Yes?”

The stylist drops the tea mug on a dresser next to the bed, and skips around in his diamond decorated slippers, sitting next to Jaemin's slump under the covers.

“Why are you weeping on my side of the bed?" he asks, purposefully making a show out of taking his silk, pink robe off of his shoulders.

Underneath, he's just wearing plain pajamas, nothing much special to it. It still makes Jaemin laugh, albeit it's fairly watery.

“Couldn't stop myself from doing it,” the model sobs, leaning on his back to stare at the ceiling.

“What's afliging you, dear?” Donghyuck asks, laying next to him and joining Jaemin in looking up to nothing in particular. “I'm sure the answer isn't sitting around in my ceiling, is it?”

The model laughs dryly. “I wish it was.”

The stylist's previously cheeky smile wears down, being replaced by a worried frown. Jaemin reaches out to smooth it from his face, but it only makes Donghyuck's hand softly curl around his wrist, squeezing gently.

“Tell me, will you?” he asks, whispering to Jaemin's close face. “Or don't. But please don't cry - it breaks my heart when you do.”

“It breaks my heart when you don't break my heart,” it comes out of the blue, without even being considered first as Jaemin blurts it out.

For a moment, it's deadly silent. Donghyuck stares at him with confusion swimming on his eyes, darkness layering over darkness in an attempt to see which one will back down first. Eventually, Jaemin sighs. “I meant… That I like you a lot. And it makes me sad because I can get very needy. And you don't make it easier for me to hate you.”

“Do you want me to break your heart?” the stylist frowns yet again.

“No! Ugh, you wouldn't get it,” he whimpers. “I get so annoying, Hyuckie. You'll be tired of me and it will make me so sad,”

Donghyuck sighs, a bit exhausted. Jaemin pouts at that, and lays his head on the boy's chest, wrapping arms around his waist.

“Baby, I don't get it,” a hand gingerly caresses Jaemin's pink locks. “Enlighten me, Barbie. Please?”

The model nuzzles Donghyuck's collarbones, a few tears slipping from his eyes still. “It's nothing, just… I'm sorry if I get too clingy. I'll work on it.”

“Don't worry about it,” he pats Jaemin's head, softly chuckling. “I'd like you if you were a hundred times clingier. Just don't cry, okay?”

Funnily enough, that makes Jaemin cry harder. “Okay,” he answers, between sobs.

Donghyuck just holds him for a second, running his hand up and down Jaemin's back. It's calming, so much he forgets what he was even crying about.

For a second. Then, Donghyuck grabs the tea mug again, and Jaemin sobs out: “I don't like tea.”

He's not all that sure about what's so stressful to the point of tears - maybe it's opening up to Donghyuck, maybe it's his overall clinginess, maybe he's just so, so tired. Jaemin curls up on the stylist's chest, and gently rubs his hair against Donghyuck's chin, a soft whine rumbling in his chest. The boy massages his tense shoulders with delicate fingers, making it easier to unwind tension, and exhaustion soaks Jaemin up oh so quickly. He's being rocked side to side, and Donghyuck smells like caramel and salt, so drifting away is inevitable. Jaemin looks up at him, through a thick layer of long lashes, and he's taken by an overwhelming need to burn the rest of the world, to hell everything that isn't Donghyuck.

And then darkness is just darkness, but dreams linger on his eyelids; pictures of the sun and the moon and Donghyuck’s lovely shoes.

 

 

 

  
Lee Donghyuck has fallen before.

He believes so. Non ironically and mushy and all that crap love is supposed to be.

Moon Taeil, an art major who went to college with him. Hwang Yeji, his first muse. Jimin Park, the one who introduced him to a wider spectre of thoughts, defying his first concepts of gender back when he was new to the fashion scene. He has loved people before, whether they were a he, she or they.

But Na Jaemin is a quite new challenge, he thinks, as he watches a head of pink hair rest on his pillow, snoring quietly. Jaemin isn't even in sleeping clothes - he's wearing jeans and a dress shirt, as modest dressing as one could get, and Donghyuck all but huffs in frustration. He's not over the top in the way he talks or looks, and despite being groundbreakingly, jaw dropping, drop dead gorgeous, he's pretty much a normal kid, but something in the way he exists just burns the stylist in adoration.

Donghyuck considers why him in the first place, but he doesn't feel like he needs it, no. Jaemin just has that, he supposes; he's heard about other people's crushes on him long before he developed one himself. It's something in the way his hips sway, in the way his smile just beams, in the little gap between his teeth. There's a number in his programmation, probably, a flick in his DNA, that attracts hearts to his pretty little hands instantaneously. And Donghyuck always thought of himself as higher than someone who would fall for a heartthrob, but as he hugs Jaemin to his chest, there's no lying about it. He's smitten.

He thinks about all his lovers from before, and Jaemin is by far the one who's most different, by being his easy going, boyish self. It's young love, simple and sharp, cutting through Donghyuck's abstract heart. Jaemin is no impressionism after all - his lights and lines are not blurry, as he's real. Very real and honest and straight to the point, a go getter even if a little shy. The stylist remembers meeting him and being bashed by his sincerity, all soft eyes and pretty eyeliner, hair a light shade of brown then.

Time flies, and morning rises through his window, no sleep tingling Donghyuck's eyes. He has no intention of getting more than two or three hours of it, if he's lucky; his mind just races and races through the room, working at a fast pace. He wants to dress Jaemin up in more comfortable clothes, but he's afraid of crossing a line, so he just lets him rest. It's quiet, his room, when Jaemin is unconscious. There's no tapping of feet on the ground, no sticky pop song as background noise, no constant whining. The walls are lit up by the sunrise, pink all over his posters and mannequins, his shirt lost somewhere in the ground because it was too hot. Jaemin's is stirred up to his thoracic cage, and at some point he just rolled off of Donghyuck's chest, now peacefully lying on the other side.

It's a very fitting scenario, with his pink hair. He seems, feels, hell, even tastes peaceful. It's a terrifying feeling of poisonous commodity, of stability and love. He's both scared and pleased at the way Jaemin just sleeps by his side, and as he rolls over too, the model's skin is hot under the stripes of sun coming from his window. It seems right - it does. Donghyuck wants to melt by his side, wants to mold himself new to accommodate Jaemin's body better, and a rumble of fear shakes in his stomach, the feeling of being at the brink of an abysm sitting under his skin.

He swallows dryly, and closes his eyes, letting the sun hit him. He's facing Jaemin, noses almost touching, and they're sharing the same sunbeam. Donghyuck knows Jaemin has been hurting, and he knows he's the reason why. Deeply, he dreads on not being worth the fight, of making Jaemin battle so many feelings and not being worth it.

“Hyuck?” he hears a sleepy whisper.

Donghyuck swallows again. “Yes?”

Jaemin yawns, exhaling through his nose. The stylist is afraid of opening his eyes and falling in love all over again.

Falling in love. He is, yes. Donghyuck has to admit to himself - after all, he spent the whole night thinking about him. If it's not falling, it feels a look like flying off. Like spreading his wings, or soaring in flight.

He inhales. Then exhales.

 _I love you,_ he wants to say. Jaemin looks like he does too.

But Donghyuck takes the long way out.

“I'm in love with you.”

The model's eyes drip honey, golden and sweet. Donghyuck has heard of heaven and hell, has been to both, but his lover may be nothing short of divine.

“I'm in love with you too,” Jaemin breathes it into the wind. Seals it to the universe. It feels oficial. It feels like they're daring the world to break them apart.

It will, probably. Donghyuck doesn't care. He grabs Jaemin's nape and roughly brings him closer, kissing his chapped lips and swallowing down all the poison and all the hurt and all the tears and all the honey and everything there is to love.

It's 5 A.M and Donghyuck has a boy made of sun in his sheets, burning like hell itself, but it's good. It's fire, and it consumes him, but it's all good.

Jaemin smiles between kisses.

A love song personified, really. Donghyuck stops kissing him just to gasp out of pure admiration. “You’re smiling.”

“Don't look too starstruck about it,” he giggles.

“That's going to be hard,” Donghyuck whispers, planting a chaste kiss on Jaemin's neck and all around it. He buries his face on its crook, and gently whispers: “Love is so ugly.”

“It is,” Jaemin presses a quick kiss do the top of his head. “But it's beautiful too. Vulgar, cruel, lonesome, gross, but beautiful.”

The stylist chuckles, albeit humorless. Inside of him, something feels defeated. “You've ruined my life.”

“You've ruined mine too,” he pats Donghyuck's back teasingly. “And I like you more than you like me, so we're even.”

The boy looks at Jaemin, a bit offended.

“Who told you that lie?”

“I know it,” the model shrugs.

“I like you so much, Jaemin,” Donghyuck breathes out, frustrated. Annoyed, maybe. It feels as if he's fighting a battle within himself. “It's been so long since I've liked someone like that. It's been so long since I remember how not being in love with you feels like.”

Jaemin's reaction is surprisingly tender, and therefore painful. He grabs Donghyuck's gaze, eyes charmed and filled with all sorts of magic, every single aspect of love in the twinkle of light swimming inside brown eyes. Donghyuck sees it; sees the ugly, the vulgar, the lonely nights, the paranoia Jaemin must have had too. Through swollen eyes he sees all the thought and all the suffering Jaemin has put into this, about the same as Donghyuck has, and he doesn't feel alone. Love is aggressive, love is hateful, love is jealous and angry and needy and all those other sins. But at the very least, they're making it through together.

Jaemin says nothing. He just stares at Donghyuck, quiet, unmoving, almost a picture. It feels like a dream where they keep merging into one another, like at any moment one of them could get caught on fire and take the other along with him. The model holds him like a lover would, looks at him in the way everyone wants to be looked at, and Donghyuck has no certainty of what that means. He's too caught up in his own love to figure out Jaemin's.

“How did we get here?” comes from his lips, the ones Donghyuck has kissed and bitten before, the ones he has been staring at for the past months.

“I don't know.”

“We'll figure it out later,” Jaemin holds him tighter. “Sleep, love.”

And he doesn't. Donghyuck cuddles closer to Jaemin and closes his eyes, but both of them know he's not sleeping. At some point, it just became an excuse to stay in silence. Donghyuck is afraid that, if he opens his mouth, the only thing coming out of it would be an avalanche of “I love yous”.

At every moment, it feels as though as they're one step closer to falling too deep and not being able to make it alive after the fall. As Donghyuck feels Jaemin's heartbeat thumping against his ears, it seems impossible that something so gut wrenchingly beautiful could be alive, and if it truly is, then he might as well be the loneliest person in the world. There's a saying like that, he believes; all precious things are lonely.

His lips find Jaemin's collarbones, and as quietly as a feather, he wishes for the universe to never let him fall in the doom of sadness.

  
**iv.**  
_when you know_.

  
Donghyuck hates temporary.

Consequently, he has a strong disaffection for crushes, likes and such - all in all, he's not one to go delirious for love either.

It's nothing personal, truly. As an artist, he loves the idea of love, the red, heart shaped and sparkly love. As a person who wishes others well, he also enjoys seeing his friends and acquaintances in love, because if it makes them happy, who's Donghyuck to find it unappealing?

But still, he's not that fond of it. And to hell Na Jaemin's otherworldly eyes, slim figure and fluffy hair. To hell all the people who want to kiss him, to take him away, to make him theirs too. Donghyuck hates the possessive shade of love, despises its roots, but it's quite impossible to will it down when Jaemin's so wanted anywhere he goes. The fact that Donghyuck misses him so much also doesn't help his mood, not really.

So if he's been ranting about it to Mark for a week or so ever since Jaemin left for a business trip, no one could blame him. Not when life has beaten him up and daydreaming about Jaemin is the only thing that keeps him at bay. He's been so stressed out by work nowadays, new collections and trends coming up quickly as the industry overwhelms society with constant content. Donghyuck knows it himself that he's in no position to poke problems on the capitalist mold of his own job, but damn - give a man a rest.

He's been so unintentionally clingy lately, too; any separation feels ten times worst, and he's always glued to someone's side, a big, Jaemin sized empty spot on his heart. His feelings show too much, he knows, he knows. But there's no such thing as going back now, and the only way left is trusting that Jaemin means it when he says he likes Donghyuck only. Which is not a problem with fidelity, because their unspoken deal of being exclusive is too loose, and the only thing tying them together is the enormous amount of trust and expectations he's put in Jaemin.

Still, even with his usual confident moves, love still makes him a little insecure, a little paranoid, a whole lot restless. Sometimes Donghyuck dreams of being less of a fool when it comes to beauty, wishes he could be the sun instead of the sunflower, the brick rather than the broken glass. He has to keep reminding himself that he is, to Jaemin. Or he hopes so.

As he walks down a hallway full of mannequins dressed up by his hands, Donghyuck feels like a child. The amount of pressure put upon him is no joke, and it makes him smaller than he usually would be, crushed by the heavy weight of his own expectations, ones that go completely opposite to the mundane realities of life. It's insane, the way he feels as if the universe owed him anything at all. Every night, Donghyuck prays it away, talks to God because it seems to be the only thing that makes sense, but it feels more like he's pleading for a break from his own self. He probably is. It would make sense if he did.

Donghyuck is once again reminded of his urgent need to let himself accept that things are just what they are, and there's nothing more to life than what he has right now. It'll feel weird first, but he trusts he'll get to it one day. And he hopes that, by the time it happens, he'll accept that love can't be figured out as well. That maybe Jaemin is the one, maybe he isn't, maybe they'll break apart forever one day and maybe they'll come back to each other's arms when time is right. This overthinking habit of his indulges on his tendencies to think life is playing a trick on him, and it's ridiculous. The more he talks about it, the absurdity of it keeps on growing. Love is not waiting around to mess him up - it is innocent, it is kind, it is patient. He has to believe that.

Jaemin comes to see him after a week apart, knocking on his door gently while Donghyuck stares at the offending piece of wood, only matter between him and the subject of his many frustrations. It creaks loudly as Jaemin's footsteps seem heavier than they were before, the ground deepening at every touch. In his face, there's a smile worth battling wars for. As Donghyuck looks at him, feeling hysterical, he finds yet again the acceptance of love. It is lethal, of course - why wouldn't it be when everything in Jaemin is?

Breathless is an understatement to what he truly feels. Rather, something in his body makes it seem like his feet are hanging down from an abysm, like maybe they're playing hide and seek and Jaemin is just a loud breath away from finding him. Donghyuck looks at him, looks looks at him, and he's blown away.

“Hi, have you been thinking about me while I was gone like I asked you to?” it's the first thing he says, the cheeky little shit.

“No. You haven't crossed my mind even once,” Donghyuck blatantly lies. It's almost funny.

“If you say so, sugarplum,” Jaemin approaches him and kisses his cheek with a loud sound of smacking lips.

The stylist sighs deeply, and his hands find Jaemin's waist, mouths gently coming together for a second or so.

“How was it, doll?” he smiles.

Jaemin stretches his long limbs, a patch of skin touching Donghyuck's fingertips when his shirt riles up. “‘t was fine.”

He just hums, gently guiding Jaemin to his bedroom. Wordlessly, Donghyuck turns off the lights, the newly added galaxy stickers on his ceiling twinkling over their heads. The model looks up instantaneously, mouth forming one of those absent minded smiles of his.

“Woah,” he whispers, squeezing Donghyuck's hand. “There's even Jupiter,”

The stylist stares - hard and long. Jaemin doesn't even see it as he's gazing at the tiny dots of light in his ceiling, but it's… Heartbreaking, really. And not in the painful way. Donghyuck stares at him with the surrender he's never given anyone before, directly acknowledging that he's tied knots that can't be changed, can’t get any tighter. He's gotten himself in one of those situations again, the ones he can't run away from, and it's surprisingly okay. It'll, eventually, have some closure; Donghyuck just doesn't like to think of it.

He also wishes he wasn't in so deep, but as he sees Jaemin's starry eyes, it's almost a second nature to be set on fire by them.

“You're distracted today,” Jaemin frowns. “Is something bothering you?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “Not really. Just been overthinking stuff.”

The model looks at him with that knowing look of his, a worried edge to his pretty eyes. Donghyuck’s insides turn to mush, but there's a worrisome in his heart that Jaemin's fabulous face could not fix.

“Oh, that's… Not good,” he says, a bit hesitant. They stand there in silence for a minute before Jaemin gets closer, taking both of Donghyuck's hands and sitting him on the bed. “Do you maybe wanna talk about it? We could watch a movie, too. Or just lay down on the floor and stare at the ceiling. Whatever you want.”

The stylist croaks out a dry laugh. He squeezes Jaemin's hands, enjoys the warmth of his fingertips, and leans in to kiss his coffee tasting lips. It's nothing but a quick peck, and soon he's staring at Jaemin's worried face, not quite knowing what to say.

“I fear this is a matter your angel eyes can't fix,” he sighs, resting his own forehead on the model's. “Although they make it that much better.”

“Will you stop flirting for once?” Jaemin frowns. “I'm worried about what goes on your mind. Give it a rest.”

Donghyuck bites his own lip, a smile being willed down because Jaemin is cute when he's frustrated.

“You look cute when you're angry,” he jokes, squeezing Jaemin's waist.

“Then I'm about to be gorgeous,” the model hisses. After that, he tries a different approach. “Hyuckie,” he whines, straddling Donghyuck's thighs. “Tell me what's bothering you.”

“Are you trying to seduce me into telling you?” Donghyuck asks in disbelief as Jaemin kisses up his jaw.

“Is it working?” the pink haired boy all but purrs, rubbing his face on Donghyuck's neck.

It actually kinda is. Embarrassingly so.

“It is,” the stylist confirms. “Nana, please. It's nothing much, really - It's just… Work. And big expectations. And anxiety about where I'll be in the future.”

Jaemin's arms snake around Donghyuck's neck, clingy like a kitten, and he kisses the boy's face all over. “That's more like it,” the model says, pecking everything his lips could touch. “I know how you'll be in the future,” he says, then kisses Donghyuck's nose. “You'll be as handsome as ever, twice as rich, and with the best arm candy in town.”

“You're the best arm candy in town,” the stylist whispers, letting Jaemin shower him in affection.

He smiles in that cruel way of his. “I know.”

Ouch. There Jaemin goes, promising forever to a boy who holds people accountable for their promises.

“But seriously, Hyuckie… You've got a bright future ahead of you,” Jaemin shifts in his lap, kissing Donghyuck full on the lips now. Once again he's hypnotised - whether by beauty or romance, he has no idea. “You'll do great things, you've already done lots of them. Also, you'll always be timeless to me.”

It's the late, late evening and Donghyuck has a lap full of cupid's brightest kid. Somehow, he feels like he's been there before.

“You say that because you have a crush,” he argues back.

“No, not at all,” Jaemin shakes his head promptly, strands of pink falling to his eyes. “I do have a mind rotting crush on you, but this is an unbiased opinion. I see you as a vintage they will never forget - or better, a mind that never goes out of style!”

“Who taught you to talk like that?” Donghyuck asks, a bit shocked himself at the smoothness of Jaemin's voice.

The model shakes his head with a tiny smile. “No one, I just like making you happy.”

Donghyuck doesn't has it in himself to say anything more, so he just rests his chin on Jaemin's shoulder, sighing deeply. He closes his eyes, wishes for calmness to get to him, and it does. Like this, he can forget time even passes at all.

And he's not sure of what to think. There's a funny feeling in his chest, one that tells him that love should be eternalized. In his fingertips, in his cupid's bow, in his every now and then present frown, he feels as if he shouldn't put closure to something as adaptable and resistant as love. He wants to, but it's a well known fact that the human heart beats everyday, every hour, every moment, every minute and every second. And if a heart can do that just for the displeasure of living, then imagine what it does for something as gratifying as love. It's innocent of Donghyuck to think that he won't love Jaemin forever when he's been carrying all these people in his heart ever since the beginning of time.

So he pulls away and stares. Because love is unconditional, never ending, limitless and ever growing, and he doesn't know if tomorrow he'll have the same Jaemin in his arms. Maybe he'll be a different person, for better or worse, and maybe Donghyuck will too. One thing's sure, though; the Donghyuck from today loves him. Loves, loves, loves him. To bits. And that's enough.

“I love you,” he says, in a breath. Like it's as easy as inhaling and exhaling. "But I won't promise you forever."

“I love you too,” Jaemin answers in a heartbeat. There's no need for forever. In his smile, he seems to know Donghyuck's heart is one of his many, many homes.

And it's not an end. There will be many more first times with Jaemin, ones that will make Donghyuck toss and turn in his bed, ones that will be challenging and hard and will probably get the best of him one day. Still, it's something. Donghyuck always thought that being together was the end to a love story, the peaceful limbo that everything built up to, but he's beginning to feel as if it's a start. As if there's much more than just struggling to get to a boy's heart.

Then, it's not the end. It's not. Love is the state of constant stimulation, a road packed and travelled and never once made easier to anyone.

He's not sure if he's ready to go through it yet, but Jaemin's smile happens to be very inviting.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> uhm. hi. it's been a while? 
> 
> i feel as if i owned an explication about this fic because, to the outsider's eyes it may not be as meaningful as it is to me. well, it's pretty much about my life as of now, and both of the main characters share lots of feelings and thoughts with me. however, i'd like to encourage you to think more about love - and not just its romantic aspect, but love itself. i think both donghyuck and jaemin can be more than just people, if you love something like they love each other. anyways, i guess what i'm trying to say is: i hope this makes you feel in love with something. and i hope i can be understood, seen and validated because this fic in special is very much what being inside my of my heart feels like. so by ALL means: go ragingly emotional with it. think deeply about what you long for, and trash talk my heart in the comments. i'll be happily waiting!!!!
> 
> thanks for reading, and... i don't know. fuck blue lives! nahyuck is skinny!


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